


no light in your bright blue eyes

by orphan_account



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: All Protective of Jim Kirk, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Issues, First Time, Genius!Jim, Humor, Hurt!Jim, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Klingons, M/M, Protective!Spock, Romance, Tarsus IV, alternative universe, prince AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 15:11:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Tiberius Kirk is the fabulous Prince of Iowa, who's, like, 10th in line for the crown and thus dreams of Starship captaincy. But life is never simple, and this time it's because of Klingons. So instead of captaincy, Jim gets a Vulcan fiancé. </p><p>Damn Klingons.</p><p>
  <b>HIATUS - waiting to be rewritten</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Queen Drops A Bomb

**Author's Note:**

> Here begins my first Star Trek and first slash fic ever. I'm constantly learning to become a better writer and English isn't my first language, so bear with me here. ｡◕‿◕｡
> 
> This Prince AU was inspired by [pixiepunch's doodles](http://pixiepunch.tumblr.com/post/65518480323/so-spicyshimmy-is-writing-the-most-adorable-prince), which were inspired by [spicyshimmy](http://spicyshimmy.tumblr.com/)'s wonderful fic [The Marriage of True Minds](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1020522/chapters/2029865).
> 
> I own nothing that seems familiar. Enjoy! (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

James Tiberius Kirk, the Prince of Iowa, was playing with a lighter in his personal study with his long legs clad in dark jeans resting on the table. His face was fixed in a deep scowl which could only be read as a look of utter disappointment and anger. He wasn’t sporting the expression just for fun – _duh_ – but for a perfectly acceptable reason. He had been on a more-or-less secret one-man roadtrip with his beloved and just slightly moderated hoverbike on the other side of the country, doing his best to forget who he actually was, until Her Majesty the Queen Winona had decided to track him down and get his ass dragged back to the Iowa Main Palace. The servants had directed him straight to his own study to wait for his mother and he wasn’t given any option to shower or even change. Typical. The whole palace was on her side.

Jim lifted his sulky gaze from the lighter once there was a knock on the door and a male servant came through once he opened it fully.

 

“Her Royal Majesty, the Queen,” he announced as a blonde-haired woman in a light blue gown marched inside. The servant went and closed the door behind him, disappearing as quickly as he had come.

 

“Hello, _mother_ ,” Jim said venomously, sparing only a glance at her, once again playing with the lighter.

 

“Hello, _James_ ,” her mother greeted back. She threw a look at Jim’s feet still in boots dangling on top of the table but said nothing of it.

 

“So, what do you want? You couldn’t just comm me or something? Like, you know, 'hi Jim, do you have a second, I need to talk to you', instead of dragging me all the way from Seattle back here.”

 

“Do I need remind you of your status, Jim? You didn’t exactly have any official permission to just hike out alone over to Washington,” Winona remarked and sat on the chair in front of Jim’s desk. Jim let out an exasperated sigh and threw his head over the back of his chair.

 

“Um, _hello_ , that was kinda the purpose of the whole thing,” he said waving his hand around to emphasize his point. “To forget the status, I mean. What’s the big deal anyway? It’s not like I’ll be king after you retire. At the pace Sam is getting Aurelan pregnant I’m gonna be, like, 10th in line for the crown.”

 

“Even if you aren’t the direct crown prince, you still have duties and responsibilities. And you still need my permission, Jimmy,” Winona reminded him. The only answer Jim gave her was a loud snort.

 

As if he didn’t know. It was more that he didn’t care. Ever since he was born, the only thing he was good for was to be a constant reminder of the deceased king George, his father. The king had died in a Klingon attack many light-years away from Vulcan and Earth, which the Starfleet and Order of the United Earth had been defending, while the little Jimmy was being born. Before his honorable death, the last thing the King had heard through the comm link to Earth was the distressed cry of his newborn son.

 

Winona had remained the sole ruler of the Kingdom of Iowa, trying to stay sane in the middle of her grief. It was like she wasn't even alive, remaining as an empty shell with a distant look in her eyes, always staring at the stars. After Jim had gained a few years and his face looked more of a child's than of a baby's, Winona knew he'd be the spitting image of his father when he matured. She thought it was too much to bear and she couldn't do it. She couldn't be the mother her son needed her to be, and he was left to the Palace staff and a newly hired caretaker to be raised properly. Until much later, Winona was gracious enough to gather herself and act like a proper mother should. At that point the harm had unfortunately already been done.

 

“Yeah, yeah, look pretty and don’t do anything stupid, you represent the country,” he muttered. Jim missed the disapproving glance his mother gave him as he was staring out of window without really seeing anything. Jim was getting more annoyed by the minute. He didn’t want to stay here just to listen to another lecture about what to do and what not to do. His mother was only good at ordering him around and expressing her unwillingness to have him near her without actually saying anything.

 

“ _To return to the point of this discussion_ ,” Winona snapped, and it was evident whom Jim had gotten his temper from, “I had something serious to talk about with you that couldn’t have been discussed over the comm.”

 

“What, you didn’t just miss my pretty face?” Jim joked innocently, but both of them heard the unsaid blame in his words. Winona ignored her son’s words to the best of her ability, schooling her features into her diplomatic mode.

 

“We have decided that you’ll be to marry Spock cha’Sarek, the Crown Prince of Vulcan,” she announced. At this Jim’s head snapped back to her mother so quickly that he’d definitely feel it later in his neck. The relaxed legs came off the table and he got to his feet, all in swift movement powered by angry astonishment.

 

“ _What?!_ ” he screamed. He thought he’d been angry with his mother before, but now he was _furious_. Both of his hands balled to fists, knuckles soon turning white. His whole posture was tense and nearly trembling with anger. “Are you fucking _kidding me_? You did not seriously just drag me back to this _hellhole_ to declare that you’ve decided _behind my back_ that I’ll be handed off to some guy? I’m 19! You have no right to decide something like that over my head! And what do you mean, ‘we’?”

 

“As your mother and the Queen, I have doubled my rights,” Winona countered, intending to stay calm. “The ' _we_ ' would be me, the parliament and the Vulcan High Council. And this _hellhole_ is your home.”

 

“What the hell? Is this some kind of punishment for sneaking out? Or just because you can’t bear to look at me? Trust me, as soon as I can attend the Academy and graduate it, I’ll be so far away from here that you’ll never have to hear of me nor see my face again!” Jim shouted.

 

He’d had a perfect plan for his future; since there was no way he’d live to be king, he would’ve been a free man. In a sense. He could’ve gone to San Francisco to enroll the Starfleet Academy. A chance to start over, completely from scraps. Then he’d serve on the Starfleet’s flagship and explore the galaxy, free from his past, free from his father's shadow, free from this place. But _no_ , of course his mother had to fuck with his plans. Instead, he was to become the _Prince Consort_ of some goddamn stuck-up Vulcan. Wonderful. Absolutely glorious. Jim wanted to punch something. Hard. Most preferably his mother’s face.

 

“Your plans for Starfleet are on hold for now, until Prince Spock has given his opinion on the matter.”

 

Winona didn’t address Jim’s accusations, though. Didn’t even deny them.

 

“His opinion on the – you’ve gotta be kidding me, mom!”

 

“Quite the opposite, Jim, I’m incredibly serious. This is already a sealed deal, and there’s nothing you can do about it without infuriating many mighty people and bringing shame to us, to your brother,” Winona dictated as she rose to her feet, all the while staring straight in to his son’s blue eyes. This was too important for them to give Jim any leeway. Her son’s shoulders slumped in defeat, seeing in her eyes that there was no way out of this. “Prince Spock is scheduled to arrive with his father Ambassador Sarek tomorrow afternoon. I trust you to muster all your _prince-y-ness_ and behave according to your position.”

 

“ _Tomorrow_? Wow. You forced me back not a day earlier just so you could make sure I wouldn’t run, didn’t you?” Jim realized, staring disbelievingly at his mother, knuckles still edging on white rather than lightly pinkish. _Do you really hate me that much?_

 “Good one with the blackmail, by the way. Very queen-like. You know I wouldn’t harm Sam’s reputation willingly.”  

 

“Jimmy, I am your mother _and_ your _queen_ , I won’t tolerate your backtalk forever,” Winona warned.

 

“What did you expect? You keep dropping all these bombs on me – what’s next, Bones resigned?”

 

“Thank heavens, no. He’s the only one in this household to know his way around your head.” And with that, Winona was gone from Jim’s study.

 

His anger hadn’t subsided enough to stop him from trashing an antique flower vase. He had a fleeting thought of getting his hoverbike and driving as fast as he could to the nearest shuttle port to get shipped away to some god-forsaken planet. Luckily for Winona, his past experience didn’t really support the thought. He’d rather marry ten Vulcans than step a foot on the surface of a planet like Tarsus IV ever again.

 

Quickly abandoning his thoughts, he stomped over to the door which lead to his private bedroom. The broken flowers and the pieces of the shattered vase were left stranded on the study floor, creating a damp spot on the carpet that the maids wouldn’t appreciate. Alone in his room, Jim unceremoniously undressed for a bath leaving his clothes scattered around the floor. He didn’t bother calling anyone to prepare him a bath, doing it himself instead. He slipped in to the warm water and scrubbed himself clean of the dirt of Seattle. He’d show his mother and deal with this with grace and honor. He’d make Sam proud. But not before tomorrow. Today he allowed himself to be bitchy.

 

 

 

 ---------------------------------

 

 

 

Winona was not surprised when she noticed her younger son didn’t seem to be coming for dinner. She wouldn’t push him anymore, knowing Jim had to be left to his own devices for a while. Those included finding the Chief Court Physician Leonard McCoy and having lunch with him instead of his family.

 

“Can you believe this bullshit?” Jim ranted mouth full of mashed potatoes. “Just because I’ll never be a great king like dad was or what Sam most likely will be, I’ll be tossed off to some Vulcan royal as a prince consort!”

 

Of course that wasn’t the actual reason, Jim knew, but he wouldn’t talk about it with Bones. He wouldn’t talk about with anyone. He was way too sober to even consider it. That didn’t mean he couldn’t whine, though.

 

“Chew and swallow before you choke, Jimbo.”

 

“Whatever – I mean what about what _I_ want? I’m the fucking Prince of Iowa, shouldn’t that give me a say on my _own goddamn future_? No, of course not. On the contrary – my lips are to be zipped and I have to prance around smiling politely and make nice with Vulcan royalty, one of whom will be my _husband_!”

 

“Well… At least the husband part isn’t a problem?”

 

“Bones, you’re missing the point!” Jim fumed while ferociously impaling pieces of pork on the plate. Though Bones was right, Jim had no qualms with husbands any more than with wives. Except for the part where he didn’t want either one at the moment. “I’m 19, I’ve got my whole life ahead of me, plans for Starfleet, but what do I get? A Vulcan prince with the emotionality levels of a _sponge_ for the rest of my life!”

 

Leonard let out a deep sigh, just letting his friend rant on and nodding in appropriate places while eating his dinner. He was puzzled by the Queen’s decision as well – Jim ain’t no dream husband, he’d be the first to say, especially for a Vulcan. All his superhuman intellect aside, he was young and conflicted with much to learn and experience about life. Settling down on Vulcan out of all places wouldn’t do much good to Jim’s mentality, that’s for damn sure. However, that was merely Leonard’s opinion, and it’s not like he had some kind of a PhD in psychology to have some impact on the argument. He was a doctor of the body, not the mind, after all. Nevertheless, he was sure the Queen had her reasons – after everything Jim’s been through in his short life, Winona wouldn’t do this unless it was absolutely necessary. Leonard knew the Queen, just like he had known Jim since the boy had been in diapers, having often come to the Iowa Main Palace along with his father – the former Chief Court Physician – first just as an extra, then as a playmate and later as an observer for the profession. He had successfully wormed himself inside the Kirk royal family and had been appointed to the task immediately after his father’s retirement, with sufficient studies under his belt, of course. 

 

“And guess what mom said – I’ll have to ask Prince Spock _opinion_ about me joining Starfleet!” Jim waved his fork, and Leonard feared he might get sauce in his eye anytime soon. “Like I’m just a thing that people own! Mom’s trading me to that Vulcan for- for… I don’t even know what for! But I bet It’s something like minerals or whatever, that’d be just like her. Which doesn’t even make any sense, why would a Vulcan even want to marry me?”

 

“Jim, I’m sure Winona has a really good explanation for all this,” Bones tried.

 

“Don’t you dare take my mom’s side, Bones,” Jim warned fixing him with a glare. “I’ll waste away on a foreign planet playing princess and probably end up dying out of a heatstroke. Why me anyway? There’re plenty of other guys out there, never mind the girls!”

 

“I’ll say, it’s not like you’re the Mr. Perfect Prince Consort candidate,” his friend chuckled, earning himself yet another glare. “Look, Jim, I know you’re mad and upset but this isn’t really something you can wriggle out of. You know Vulcans bond for life? You could at least try it out. If there’s no way it’ll work, we’ll just have to figure out something then. The thing is, he’s gonna be here tomorrow with his daddy, and you gotta play nice. Vulcans are powerful people. Give it a chance.”

 

“Fuck you, you’re supposed to be bitching about this with me.”

 

“Not this time, Jim. This time I’m gonna be an exemplary adult for you to look up to.”

 

Bones received a loud snort and Jim received a tomato slice on his forehead.

 

 

 

 ----------------------------------------

 

 

 

The next day came sooner than Jim would’ve liked, and after he had enjoyed lunch in his chambers (intentionally, he was still angry with her mother) he had been dressed into his full uniform, sans phaser-holster that’d normally hang on his left hip. This was supposedly a peaceful happening, and his mother had denied the servants from arming him even with a tiny phaser. Jim was quite disappointed, since he felt safer with a phaser around.

 

The uniform was itchy from the sides and he kept tugging it. The uniform consisted of dark blue slacks, polished black shoes, black undershirt and a white overcoat which had a ton of ornamented buttons, golden stripes on shoulders and on the chest five pin decorations implicating his title, which he didn’t really care for. Jim preferred the title _Starship Captain_ to _His Royal Highness Prince James Tiberius Kirk, Duke of Cedar Rapids, Earl of Riverside, Royal Knight of the United Earth, Knight of the United Federation of Planets_ , but that didn’t seem all that achievable at the moment.

 

Jim had never liked his uniforms and felt much more comfortable in mundane clothing. But the Queen obviously didn’t approve much of his personal wardrobe, so showing up in jeans and a t-shirt would’ve without a doubt caused a scandal. Jim endured the itchiness as he always had, even when he definitely would have loved to give a piece of his mind to his mother about this whole ordeal.

 

Jim was most certainly _not_ anxious about meeting Prince Spock. He had been equipped with a file including all basic information on the Prince, but Jim had merely spared it one glance to know the Prince wasn’t an old pervert. Just to calm his mind. Otherwise he certainly wasn’t interested. He had _not_ stared at the formal photo and thought “ _score one for the engagement – I’d tap the hell outta that”_. Still he couldn’t help but wonder why this engagement had been arranged. Her mother had mentioned a deal, so surely this was some sort of trade? Vulcan was filled with minerals and intelligence, but it belonged to the Federation just like Earth did. Jim couldn’t think what Iowa could personally gain from this, other than that he wouldn’t be messing with them anymore. He guessed that was enough for his mother, and the thought made him grit his teeth together. Typical of her.

 

It was also the other half of the deal that puzzled him. He kind of wished he’d been there when the Vulcan High Council had been negotiating the engagement with the Queen, just to know what the terms were. His mother sure as hell didn’t tell him. Vulcan surely wouldn’t gain anything from this. Getting a royal fuck-up onto their planet couldn’t be logical, no matter how clever he was. Except… His father had protected Vulcan from Klingons. They owed him a debt.

 

Is this how it’ll be filled?

 

His mother decided to make use of the debt and load him off so she wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore?

 

Bones was right, Winona _did_ have an explanation. So much for the supposed mother’s love though.

 

All his hopes for future were trashed just like that, only because the Queen couldn’t stand him. Not in her kingdom, not across the continent, not on the whole planet. He had to be sent far away, beyond many light-years, so she could breathe again. All because of his face, which had made him into a fuck-up extraordinaire.

 

At that moment, there was nothing he hated more than the blue eyes that stared at him from the mirror. Without thinking, his right fist connected with the reflective surface and stirred up a mighty _crash_. Pieces of it came down, some sticking to his knuckles, all bloody. He felt pain, but not from the blow.

 

He had thought, if he just kept away and came back to visit occasionally, she’d be okay. She’d love him still. But that wasn’t enough. He had to be as far away as possible.

 

Then a chime on the door interrupted his thoughts. He didn’t answer, but it sounded again.

 

“My Lord? His Royal Highness Prince Spock of Wulcan has arrived wiz Ambassador Sarek. Her Majesty sent me to get you to greet zem. I trust you’re—Sir?” said the curly-haired head of Jim’s page that was peeking from behind the door. He noticed right away the shattered mirror and Jim’s bloody hand. The prince sighed and started plucking the shards out of his skin, wincing all the while.

 

The page let himself in and walked straight to Jim. “Sir, we must go to Doctor McCoy.”

 

“I’m fine, Pavel”, Jim whispered, feeling defeated.

 

“Nono, sir, we must treat zis. I vill do it”, the page assured him and fetched a small medkit, stored away in Jim’s bathroom. He gently grabbed the prince’s hand and at once began disinfecting the wound. It stung, but Jim remained quiet, inhaling and exhaling to calm himself. Chekov didn’t ask him about the mirror, and Jim was silently thankful. He’d just have to pull himself together and go meet his fiancé.

 

“All better, sir”, Chekov said once he had tied bandages around the hand. His work was somewhat clumsy, as he wasn’t accustomed to medical assistance, but Jim didn’t mind. The page gave his hand a small, encouraging squeeze and let go.

 

“Thank you”, Jim said and gestured for Chekov to lead them to the throne room, giving his uniform a final tug. “Let’s get this over with”, he muttered.


	2. Better Than Pictures

Inside the throne room, Queen Winona was already sitting on her place, with a silky gown on and a crown on her head. Sam was off-planet with Aurelan, so their chairs were empty. As the two latecomers came in, Chekov remained by the door and announced Jim, who pranced through the marble floor to his own seat on the platform. He kept his face impassive, staring keenly at his chair. Once he sat down on the cushioned seat, he spared a glance towards his mother, who was gawking questioningly at his bandaged hand, idly resting on the armrest. Jim ignored it and apologized for his tardiness instead. His mother nodded, and a Vulcan servant introduced his lords.

 

“Your Majesty, Your Highness, may I present to you His Royal Highness, Prince Spock of Vulcan and His Royal Highness, the Noble Ambassador Prince Sarek.”

 

Winona extended her warm smile and welcomes to both of them, but Jim was absent-mindedly picking on his bandages. It was only when a deep male voice greeted the Kirks by saying “meeting them was agreeable” that he paid any actual attention to their guests, even if only by resisting the urge to roll his eyes. _The understatement of the century,_ he thought sarcastically. Winona then cleared her throat and Jim could feel her pointed stare on his temple, expecting him to open his mouth and greet their guests as a proper prince should. He lifted his gaze to Winona for a second, shifted it to Pavel’s, who gave him an encouraging smile again and then drew in a deep breath. _Okay, let's do this._

 

“I, too, wish you welcome to the Iowa…” he started while meeting first the older Vulcan’s, Sarek’s, eyes and then moving on to Spock. He’s words drifted away when he took the Prince in, realizing the formal photograph of him had done no justice whatsoever to the actual thing.

 

Rather than looking like what Jim would definitely _tap the hell out of_ , Prince Spock was indescribably _beautiful_.

 

Jim was no stranger to alien races, and he had always had an appreciation of green. Which meant he wasn't at all affronted by the green hue under the Prince Spock's pale, delicious-looking smooth skin. His face was all elegant lines and angles, chin strong and stubble-free, eyes like melted chocolate, eyebrows sleek and… pointing inquiringly upwards.

 

Right. Shit.

 

“..Main Palace as our honored guests.” Smooth, Jim. Real smooth.

 

Jim felt warmth creeping up his cheeks, as Sarek was only watching him solemnly and Spock raised another eyebrow. Winona looked like she desperately wanted to drop her face to her hands but didn’t with the force of pure willpower. Jim was momentarily paralyzed, willing the color on his cheeks to return to normal. This welcoming thing was _not_ going like Jim had hoped it would’ve. He’d hoped to be all cool and indifferent but five minutes into it and he’d already made a fool out of himself in front of his incredibly logical future Vulcan husband and his dad, because he couldn’t stop staring at the former’s face. Great. He thought quickly for a way to rectify the situation.

 

“ _Dif-tor heh smusma_ ,” he said then with somewhat rough diction, raising his injured hand to the traditional Vulcan salute _ta’al_ with practiced ease. This brought the hint of surprise out of all three Vulcan, but as the Royals answered likewise but in Standard, the servant only bowed his head. Apparently his rank didn’t allow him to answer to a greeting.

 

“Peace and long life, Queen Winona and Prince James of Earth.”

 

His mother as well hadn’t been expecting him to know any customs of their guests’ home planet, which made Jim pretty smug and completely forget his earlier embarrassment. Now that he’d proven he wasn’t a complete airhead, Jim relaxed a bit. Winona took over the conversation and invited the Vulcans to have tea in the Palace Gardens and they wasted no time in moving the party there. Jim of course was also forced– _invited_ – to join. Much to his chagrin, Winona chose one of her regular guards, Hendorff (Jim called him Cupcake) to act as an escort rather than Pavel whose presence would’ve been much more comforting. The group began a walk through the Palace’s labyrinth-like corridors, Winona already chattering away with Sarek about the kingdom’s history and other blahblahblah. Prince Spock walked somberly, back straight and no hair out of place. Hands were swinging on his sides, the movement stiffer to the keener eye than Jim’s, which he figured must be the Vulcan control, keeping his posture always perfect and refraining from redundant motion. It was illogical to waste energy on a looser swing of the arms, wasn’t it?

 

Jim thought himself little illogical, too. Here he was mocking the Vulcan silently in his head, but still couldn’t keep the hearts out of his eyes as he kept staring at Spock. The Vulcan Prince was too captivating of a sight, Jim couldn’t help it even if wanted to. Or the fact that he felt blood rushing to his groin every time when those long dark lashes brushed the pale green cheek. _That_ he tried to stop, and was still trying, so the sudden switch from ogling Spock to imagining Bones getting it on with the Palace’s jack of all trades, master of engines, Scotty, had nothing abnormal about it. Abnormal was probably that he still kept glancing at Spock.

 

“Is there something on my face, Prince James?”

 

Jim got startled by the sudden deep voice and realized he was busted. All the blood that had been elsewhere was on his cheeks again.

 

“What? Uh, n-no, I don’t think so…” he stuttered. _Man, I_ can’t _catch a break today!_

“Then is there another explanation to why you continuously keep regarding my person?”

 

When prodding his brain for an explanation other than _well, you're so fucking hot that I can't stop staring_ Jim felt the rising need to go on defense but buried it under his charming façade and flirt. He didn’t need anyone to tell him that the odds of him winning against a Vulcan in any battle were non-existent, so it’d be pointless to try. Not that exactly those kind of odds would have made him want to try it even more, of course not.

 

In truth, Jim’s perseverance was the number one reason Leonard McCoy had predicted himself to become the history’s youngest case of gray hairs. Or to have a heart attack, take your pick.

 

“Well, you _are_ my fiancé,” he said, flashing Spock a grin.

 

“You are stating the obvious, James, and it is not fitted as an explanation.”

 

“It’s Jim. And to me it is. After all, don’t you wanna know who you’re gonna be stuck with for the next few years?”

 

Spock didn’t acknowledge Jim’s estimation of the length of their marriage in any way. He opened his mouth as to answer Jim but when he went to place his neatly behind his back, their hands brushed together for a millisecond and whatever was going to come out of his mouth, stayed in. Jim felt a small spark, like touching something with an electrical charge and he heard Spock’s sharp intake of air and knew he must’ve felt the same. Jim thought nothing of it, although he was momentarily upset when he realized he and Spock had touched and he didn’t even notice it because of the spark. Spock however remained silent.

 

The human observed his fiancé now in quiet curiosity, getting nothing from the Vulcan. He had no idea how to read him – even as he noticed very subtle differences in his face that would’ve been lost to someone not as interested, he didn’t know what they meant. Jim didn't get to ask him about the reaction to the touch, as they’d already reached the tall Parisian doors that led to the Gardens. _I guess it's just Vulcans and their no-touchy rules._

 

“The maids have prepared Vulcan Spice tea for you,” Winona assured their guests when they entered the Gardens in Cupcake's wake, as if they’d have complained had there only been Terran tea. Jim was not worried that he’d have to drink strange beverages (Vulcan tea was rumored to be quite gross for human taste buds) as he knew her mother didn’t drink tea at all and she’s the Queen, so there’d definitely be coffee. And that was what Jim needed right now, since alcohol was unfortunately not available at that moment.

 

“That is most deferential, thank you,” Sarek said and nodded to her. Spock was still quiet, only showing with a minute nod that he was paying attention at all.

 

The Gardens were a relatively big area, and resembled strongly a jungle. It was filled with plants from different continents and planets, and it was decades old. Secretly it was also one of Jim’s favorite places in the Palace and it reached his chambers. He could climb out his window and go straight in to the thickest parts of the manmade jungle. Iowa wasn’t exactly the best place for such a garden with its heat and cold extremes, which is why it was surrounded with an air conditioned glass globe. The ceiling was retractable and was often kept open in the spring. As it was now autumn, it was closed. Today wasn’t raining so the sun shined through the glass letting light and a hint of warmth inside. Most of the light gathered on an area where there was a set of garden furniture. A china set was arranged on the coffee table and steam was rising from the ornamented pans. Some vegan-friendly finger food (that could also be eaten with a fork, Winona truly hadn’t missed any detail) was placed on a tray.

 

Jim made a beeline to the loveseat, as it was the farthest away from his mother’s seat. Immediately a maid began serving him coffee, like she knew he liked it. The Ambassador and the Queen sat down also and began to be served and then Spock surprised Jim by settling next to him on the loveseat. Jim raised his eyebrows in astonishment, whereas Winona smiled approvingly to herself. Jim shrugged to himself and raised the china cup to his lips. The coffee smelt heavenly. His first sip of it turned into a small coughing fit however when Winona decided to engage him in the general conversation that had been going on with her and Sarek.

 

“So Jimmy, I wasn’t aware you had studied Vulcan.” And the hot liquid tried to make his way into Jim’s windpipe. As he started coughing, he felt Spock tense next to him and one of the maids approached, trying to figure out how to best help him but Jim held up a hand to halt the girl’s movement. The coughs died down and he cleared his throat. Jim sneaked a fleeting look at his fiancé who unsurprisingly had an eyebrow raised again, but seemed to relax just a bit.

 

 _Well, it’s not like there are that many things about me that you_ are _aware of_ , he thought, resisting an eye roll.

 

“Yeah, I did for a couple of courses in _school_ , Mom,” he retorted as nonchalantly as he could, yearning for his mother to catch his meaningful emphasis and to change the subject. It wasn’t that Jim’s school records were nothing to pay any closer attention to, on the contrary, but that he wasn’t in any way willing to disclose _where_ he had studied. And that question came up more often than not when talking about his education.

 

“It must have been some time ago, for I find your articulation somewhat unpracticed.”

 

So, His Highness decided to join in. Jim supposed that for Vulcans, saying “ _it was a good try_ ” or “ _thanks for your cultural sensitivity”_ was illogical, so naturally he’d get merely get mocked for his attempt.

 

“I know I’m rusty, thanks.”

 

Jim noticed Sarek fixing his utterly emotionless glare on his son, which made Spock’s back go impossibly straight. He also saw the Vulcan hesitating for a brief moment before voicing a suggestion than Jim sure as hell wasn’t expecting. All this no-emotions business was so confusing when there was a bunch of those obviously hanging in the air.

 

 “I offer my assistance if you would wish to proceed in your studies of Golic Vulcan.”

 

Oh.

 

“Um, sure, working on it wouldn’t hurt,” Jim admitted and quickly took a sip of his coffee.

 

“Indeed.”

 

“Excellent! You’ll get to know each other better. Jim will also act as your guide in the Palace, won’t you honey?” Winona beamed. This time Jim couldn’t resist the eye roll.

 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” _Great, I went straight from fiancé to baby-sitter_. _She'll apparently make up just about anything to keep me away._

 

Not that there was that much to guide through, this was _Iowa_ , not France or some other fancy country in Europe with gigantic castles and courts made up of tons of people. The Main Palace isn’t all that big, and with small practice you could make your way just about anywhere even in the dark, Jim if anyone can confirm that. There were secret passages inside the sturdy walls though, but that’s Jim’s secret, and they weren't easily accessed anyway so Spock wasn't likely to run into them.

 

“Then it’s settled!”

 

With that the adults launched into a politic mumbo jumbo about the Federation's affairs and Jim drank the rest of his coffee lost deep within his own thoughts, blissfully unaware of the cogs turning inside his fiancé’s head.

 

 

\--------

 

 

When teatime with Vulcans was over, Jim made his way directly to McCoy’s room in the servant side of the Palace. He entered without knocking, as was his habit. Leonard may or may not have told him to knock like normal people do. As if Jim would do as he’s told.

 

“Are you proud of me now, Bones? I behaved,” he sing-songed as he plopped down on the doctor’s bed.

 

“Damnit Jim, someday soon you’ll give me a heart attack!” McCoy grumbled from his desk, scowling at his paperwork.

 

“Shush, it does you good to be on your toes every once in a while.”

 

“And to add on my stress? Jimmy, I’m the doctor here.”

 

“Whatever. Don’t you wanna know how it went?”

 

“No, but you’re gonna tell me anyway.”

 

“I tried, Bones, really, I was a good boy. And that’s why you’re looking at Prince Spock’s new student and baby-sitter.”

 

“Don’t ya mean the Prince’s your baby-sitter?”

 

“ _No_ , Bones. Mom named me his guide.”

 

“Oh. Well, you’re certainly the best for the job. What’s this student business thing then?”

 

“Spock offered to help me study Vulcan and I gave in under the pressure. I don’t mind though,” Jim said and shrugged. He was actually really eager to learn more Vulcan, although he was already pretty fluent. Bigger vocabulary was only a good thing. The traditional form of script also gave him some difficulties. And of course, his accent.

 

“So it went _that_ well,” McCoy teased.

 

“Shut up. I just need to practice my pronunciation.”

 

“Oh, I’m _sure_ the Prince will help you with that.”

 

Jim flipped him off and was out of the door faster than McCoy could say ‘hypospray’. He kept flipping the door off too while he walked away because he heard chuckling behind it.

 

Damn Bones. Sure, Spock was to die for on the outside, if you didn’t mind the whole logic-rules-thing, but so far he had seemed a bit arrogant (oh right, Spock wasn’t arrogant because pride is an emotion and Vulcans don’t do those). So Jim’s first impression of his betrothed was _okay_. Maybe he would understand Jim’s reasons and let him join Starfleet.

 

Jim himself was _not_ arrogant. He was actually self-conscious to some degree and grateful for little things. He just… He didn’t like to appear as vulnerable, so he hid behind the personality that people assumed him to have. It was easier.

 

Jim realized that he was still wearing the itchy uniform, and headed to his chambers to change into something more comfortable. In the corridor of his rooms were standing two men, quietly conversing. Or rather, one kept politely nodding as the other exclaimed with different hand gestures. Jim got closer and recognized Spock’s tall form and dark bowl cut from behind. The excited one was his page, Pavel Chekov. What was Spock doing down here?

 

“Easy on the Prince, Pavel. He’s got a long journey behind him,” Jim chuckled, interrupting the teenager. Pavel immediately went red on the cheeks and stood in attention.

 

“Aye, Sir, I vanted to vish him velcome to ze Palace,” the curly-haired boy explained.

 

“I did not mind. Thank you, Mister Chekov,” Spock said and clasped his hands behind his back.

 

“Oh, good then. So what are you doing here, Prince Spock? Can I help you with something?” Jim offered to be polite. He wanted to get out his uniform though, so maybe Spock was just lost and he had asked directions from Pavel and would be on his way now that Jim had interrupted their chat.

 

“I meant to inquire whether you would be amenable to ‘showing me around’, as I believe you would say. The Palace is foreign to me and I wish to familiarize myself with the design of this estate, as undoubtedly independent traversing will be necessary during my Terran month-long visit.”

 

Which was Spock-speak for “please give me a tour, I don’t want to get lost”.

 

“Oh right, sure. Just let me grab a change of clothes, this uniform drives me crazy.”

 

“I have not noticed any conspicuous alteration in your mental state.”

 

“A figure of speech, your Highness. And good to know you don’t think I’m insane. Yet. Bones though would beg to differ,” Jim smirked and went to open his door. “Follow me.”

 

“But, Sir! First I must do my job, yes?” Pavel interrupted and fished his scanner from his belt.

 

“I don’t think it’s really necessary…”

 

“Sir, it is my job and I take pride in my vork. Your safety is most important, yes?” Chekov insisted and started scanning Spock with his device. Jim sighed but let his page finish his work. He left the door open to his study expecting Spock to follow him as soon as Chekov was done. Jim went to his bedroom to rummage through his closet for regular clothes. As he picked out a pair of jeans, he heard the faint _thump_ of his main door closing.

 

“Prince James?” Apparently, Spock had come away clean, as Jim had suspected.

 

“In here,” Jim called, slid out of his slacks and unbuttoned his uniform jacket and threw it on his bed. Spock walked in as he zipped his dark jeans and threw a regular t-shirt over his undershirt. “Pavel deemed you harmless?”

 

“Indeed. He was very thorough.”

 

“So you approve of my 16-year-old page?”

 

“Affirmative. He performs his assignments satisfactorily.”

 

“Good to know,” the human smirked. He straigthened his shirt and arranged his formal clothes more neatly on the bed for the staff to put away. Satisfied, he turned toward the door, breaking the momentary silence. “Shall we?”

 

Spock turned to the door in his wake, and Jim realized he had been staring at the shattered mirror. The small glass shards around it had been cleaned away, but the frame remained and inside it a few stubborn pieces of reflective glass. It was evident even to blind person that it had been struck. Shit. Jim had forgotten completely about it and he could just see Spock’s eyebrow itching to be raised upwards in question.

 

“That- that was an accident this morning,” he tried.

But Spock was a Vulcan and had the IQ of a Vulcan. He could count two plus two, as in Jim’s bandaged hand and a broken mirror, together. He didn’t however attempt to get the truth out of the human, merely nodded and started towards the door. Jim sighed and ran a hand through his messy blond hair and went after the Vulcan Prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. So, Spock's in the game! What'd you think of it? 
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments so far, it's great to have my writing received so well. (｡･ω･｡✿)


	3. An Attempt On Life

“You managed to go through the guest wing already, right?” Jim began once they were out of the corridor that lead to his chambers. “All the emergency escapes and that stuff?”

 

Spock merely nodded in response. Jim scratched his neck and pondered for a second for the most logical approach for a tour in the Palace. He hadn’t actually showed anyone around before, as Bones knew his way around already and Gaila was allowed only to certain parts of the Palace.

 

“Okay, well… I guess we could just go this way and I’ll explain the places while going through them. There are of course rooms we can’t enter but I’ll be sure to tell you when we run into those.”

 

Without really expecting an answer, Jim began leading Spock forward. Before turning swiftly to the right, he gestured toward the end of the hallway.

 

“That’s where Sam’s and Mom’s rooms are. Don’t ask me why I’m so excluded,” he explained and began walking again. “But those are off-limits except for emergencies.”

 

“I was not intending to intrude on the Crown Prince’s nor the Queen’s lodgings without an invite.”

 

“Just so you know.”

 

A mere nod again. Sheesh, this guy certainly wasn’t too talkative.

 

Well, it’s not like Jim was really encouraging a conversation. This whole thing was too bizarre to comprehend. Here he was, showing his home to practically a stranger who’s his fiancé because his mom blackmailed him into accepting the engagement. He’d do it for Sam, but he wasn’t going to stay imprisoned on Vulcan for the rest of his life. A couple years here and there, he’d go along with it and when the opportunity showed itself he’d get out and travel the stars. Most likely as a space pirate, which he actually found appealing since Starfleet didn’t seem to be an option. His mother had too much influence in that place for him to sneak in.

 

And because this was just a debt repaid for the Vulcans, Jim was pretty sure they wouldn’t mind the least when the insolent human would finally be gone from their perfectly logical planet. He bet Spock would enjoy getting his freedom back too. Or…

 

“Was there any particular reason you went along with this?”

 

“I believe I informed you earlier; I wished to familiarize myself—“

 

“No, no, I meant this. The engagement. You and me.”

 

“It is my father’s wish.”

 

“So you just do like your daddy tells you to? I thought you weren’t a minor.”

 

“You are correct - I am not. But I am Sarek’s heir as he is T’Pau’s. I do as he wishes until I surpass him. But you, as well, are doing as ‘your mommy tells you to’, are you not?”

 

Jim ran a hand over his face when he felt the familiar becoming creep of warmth on his cheeks _. I was_ not _expecting this kind of sass from a guy claiming to be all logical and have no emotions, holy shit._

“You got me. Or kinda, since it’s not like I’m doing this because I’m such a good boy.”

 

“That much I had gathered myself. May I inquire as to why, then?”

 

“She, uh, she blackmailed me.” Spock halted in the corridor, eyes slightly widening before he schooled his face back to impassive.

 

“The Queen threatened you to submission?” the disbelief could be detected from Spock’s voice. Jim took a hold of his hurriedly and dragged him closer to a wall as a few servants walked by them. Spock undoubtedly could have remained unmovable in the middle of the corridor, but surprise was Jim’s momentum and worked like a charm.

 

“Not so loud, your Highness!” he hissed.

 

“I do not understand, why do you not want to bring the Queen’s transgression to a more public attention? Despite her position, you are also of high status and an attempt made on your life—“

 

Jim groaned and slammed a hand on Spock’s mouth, which quite effectively shut the Vulcan up. Jim was once again pushing the boundaries of familiarity, but gossip was a thing the servants craved for and nothing was better than a scandal inside the Palace’s walls. Jim if anybody would know. So he wasn’t really beyond reason when he kept Spock huddled to the wall and effectively silent with his hand.

 

“No one’s made an attempt on my life, Spock! She just said that I’d shame Sam if I didn’t agree to it and I don’t want that to happen.”

 

They stared each other in the eyes as Jim tried to figure out what the hell the other was thinking behind his Vulcan mask. These few hours of talking to each other without knowing his thoughts was driving Jim crazy. He was normally good at reading others but with this alien he saw nothing. Spock raised his hand to remove Jim’s from his mouth and the human realized he was still all up close and personal with Spock. Right, Vulcans didn’t like to be touched and Jim definitely was doing too much of that, engaged or not.

 

“Unhand me, please.”

 

“Sorry,” Jim whispered and took his hands of Spock as quickly as he could. “Sorry. It’s just, the gossip… Courts on Earth are a bit different from Vulcan ones.”

 

“Apologies are unnecessary, I understand your concern,” he countered and straightened his uniform that had crumpled a little in the process. Jim took a few steps back and they resumed their walk.

 

With no additional conversing Jim showed and gave him details of the kitchen, the ballrooms, the hospital wing, the dining hall, all the necessary places inside, even the servants’ wing. The rooms there had been set up separately for females and males, both of low ranks. Those with higher ranks, such as McCoy, had their small private rooms with bathrooms. Chief Court Physician was located near the hospital wing, but for example Jim’s previous caretakers had had their own rooms in the servants’ wing.

 

“This room is empty now, but it belonged to the nannies I had when I was a kid.”

 

“You had multiple caregivers at a time?” Spock asked and raised an eyebrow.

 

“Hey, no. I wasn’t an easy child, but I wasn’t _that_ horrible,” Jim chuckled but the mirth wasn’t apparent in his eyes. “There was some… problems with the first babysitter, so mom hired a new one after him.”

 

“’Him?’”

 

“Yeah, I had a male nanny,he was…” Jim started excitedly with a smile creeping to his eyes, but it dimmed out as soon as it had appeared. “…Never mind. It’s not important.”

 

“I see.”

 

Spock’s patience with Jim seemed to be endless, nothing like what Jim had predicted it be when they were in the Gardens. Whenever Jim stumbled with words, started a sentence but never finished it and when his mind wandered, Spock waited with infinite calm for him to get his act together. It came to Jim that maybe Spock was trying to make this easier for him, as he was human and had already expressed his feelings about their alliance. He would never tell Spock, but it was grateful, as it was sort of helping. They weren’t in the easy, companionable silence stage yet, far from it, but it wasn’t all tense and awkward either.

 

“So that’s probably it for the indoors, really,” Jim remarked as they made their way to the main hall. “It’s getting dark, so if you need a tour around the Palace grounds, I’d suggest tomorrow.”

 

“No need. I believe I am sufficiently informed of the design of the Palace. Thank you, Prince James,” Spock said, tilted his head forward and turned in the direction of the guest wing. Jim huffed out a breath and made way to his chambers. He had other stuff to do anyway.

 

 

\-------

 

 

Winona Kirk was not known among her people as one to procrastinate. That was why Jim’s additional Vulcan lessons with Spock began at their earliest convenience, getting to work straight away to get the two Princes to spend time with each other and help Jim grasp the language even better. It was a master plan in Winona’s mind even when Jim, an actual participant in the plan, did not agree. He learned that Prince Spock was occasionally a guest instructor in the Vulcan Science Academy and was quite accustomed to teaching Vulcans, with _Vulcans_ being the keyword here. They were a race of emotionally stunted brainiacs who took criticism like it was the day’s weather report, as something to learn from, but not really affecting them. Jim instead was part of a race of highly emotional sonofabitches who punched ruthless Vulcan criticism in the face when they got too pissed off. Not that Jim had punched Spock in the face _per se_ , but the temptation had been and certainly still was very much there.

 

Their first meeting hadn’t given Jim an accurate presentation of Spock at all. Only when the lessons started with Spock being the educator and Jim the educatee, did the human get a more accurate representation of the strict Vulcan. Jim’s weakest point in learning the language was his pronunciation, which to him was understandable since he hadn’t exactly heard the language for a while, but Spock didn’t see it that way. He kept pointing flaws only to have Jim barking back at him. Then he began messing with Jim’s other schoolwork. You see, Jim often left some work undone when he found it incredibly boring and unnecessary - Spock took this as laziness and stupidity, it seemed. Then Spock took over all of Jim’s teaching! This made Jim angrier than ever and filled him with the will to show that pointy what James Tiberius Kirk was made of. No man, Vulcan or not, could just stomp into Jim’s living space and declare him witless. He put all his energy into his schoolwork, which frankly required it, since Jim also had some delayed exercises from the time of his roadtrip on top of Spock’s intense assignments. He also began perfecting other languages that he was previously fluent but had gotten rusty in. Soon he did not come out of his rooms other than barely for dinner and of course, Spock’s lessons.

 

“Jim, you gotta take a break!” McCoy had come inside yelling with Chekov on his heels. The curly-haired boy was nodding fervently, insistent but afraid to step over his boundaries.

 

“No time for breaks, Bones. I thought you said studying was important,” Jim answered, not lifting his head up from his PADD.

 

“In _healthy_ doses, kid. But this has gone up and beyond that.”

 

“Pavel, could you check this? I must be going blind ‘cause I don’t see the problem in this equation,” Jim said and motioned for the boy to come around the Prince’s desk. He did that very eagerly and studied the math equation for a moment and then pointed at a variable Jim had misplaced on the PADD, similarly to the way they used to when Pavel was still undergoing his training. He and Jim studied often together in a way of bonding, which was the main reason why the boy was Jim’s page and not anyone else’s. Occasionally the prince felt bad for Chekov to waste his talents on a measly job in the palace, but the kid would have none of it. Jim whispered his thanks while Bones was tapping his foot on the floor.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got it Bones, I’ll take a break in a minute!”

 

“No, you’re taking it now, you’re gonna go eat lunch with the others. Doctor’s orders. And you’ll chew everything 20 times, alright?”

 

“Bones, I’ll just finish these, I swear I’ll eat lunch after it!”

 

“That’s not good enough! It’s happening _now_!”

 

“Chekov, would you escort this very enthusiastic man outside, please-“

 

“But, Sir, the Doctor has a wery good point-“

 

“You’re coming right now, Jim, or I’ll hypo you in the neck and carry you to the damn dinner table myself.”

 

As always, a good old hypo-threat did the job; Jim let go of the PADD with his left hand to protect his neck. This gave Leonard and opening and he wouldn’t be an efficient Chief Court Physician if hadn’t taken it. McCoy got behind Jim’s desk and pried the PADD off his hands. He turned it off in a swift move and got Jim standing while doing it. The prince whined as his best friend dragged him out of the room and in to the corridor, Chekov coming close behind, assuring the door was locked first. The servants passing by gave them way without prompting, recognizing the deep scowl on McCoy’s face. This sight was not a rare one, especially when it was accompanied with a pouting prince. Both of them kept mumbling to themselves in annoyed manner, and Chekov walked behind them silently, face filled with amusement. Chekov had of course been extremely worried of his Sir’s good health for the passing two weeks and alarmed the Doctor after noticing the situation only escalating.

 

He only hoped the Prince would not remain too cross with him.

 

And Jim certainly wouldn’t. He usually blamed McCoy for all these kind of things. (“This is a kidnapping, Bones!”, “The hell it is, you over-grown baby!”) The man had an army of hypos with Jim’s name on them just for fun. The Doctor also didn’t make idle threats, so Jim surely would’ve gotten one if he had resisted more. Jim was loathe to be away from his schoolwork, wanting continuously to improve and show that goddamn Vulcan bastard that he was no idiot even if he couldn’t pronounce _da-kuvaya t’khaf-spol-dvunek_ correctly when talking about anatomy, _yet_. He was fucking working on it, he was.

 

Jim’s angry pout deepened into a scowl as he saw Spock approaching the dinner hall from a different direction. McCoy finally let go of his arm and stood a bit more apart than before for Jim to have his dignity at least in the front of their guests. Though a massive part of that dignity was thrown out of the window once the engaged couple made eye contact and Jim came to the decision to stick out his tongue at the Vulcan in a very immature way. McCoy rolled his eyes in exasperation, only to have them nearly bulging out of his head as Spock’s very green tongue was also hanging out. Chekov was failing to hide his giggling behind them.

 

“Are you kidding me right now, Jim?”

 

Jim _hmph_ ed and faced the other way like a goddamn teenager. The hobgoblin disappeared inside the dining hall and McCoy halted their walking.

 

“What the hell is going on between you two?”

 

“Nothing! Ask my fiancé, since he’s such a know-it-all asshole,” Jim mumbled.

 

“Great, you’re like a married couple already.”

 

“Shut up, Bones,” Jim snapped and marched towards the dining hall’s doors.

 

Those allowed in the dinner table had already arrived and sat down. Jim sat down reluctantly on his marked seat and began lapping food to his plate. McCoy kept glaring at the action from behind Jim’s chair.

 

“Will you join us, Leonard?” Winona chuckled, already used to the Doctor’s mannerisms. The Vulcan guests observed this quietly.

 

“No thanks, ma’am. Just making sure my orders are being followed.”

 

“Bones, for god’s sakes—see? I’m eating! You can go!” Jim muttered and made a show of showing pasta into his mouth with a fork. McCoy scoffed and retreated out of the hall, taking Chekov with him.

 

“You better eat some vegetables too!” Jim heard from the hallway. He resisted an urge to throw a knife behind him.

 

Screw Bones. Screw mom. Screw Spock, too. Screw everybody! All he ever gets from anyone is shit. He tries to get out of his mom’s hair, she gets him engaged. He tries his best to go on with the engagement, the fiancé decides to stomp him down. He tries to exceed the fiancé’s expectations, he gets dragged away from his studies. What the hell. Why is he even bothering with this when—

 

Okay, shouldn’t have taken a sip of that wine then. It hadn’t tasted like—the kitchen _knew_ his allergies better than anyone else – well, except for Bones.

 

 Shit. Shitshit _shit_. This was bad. In a starting panic he lost his grip on the fork and it landed on the floor with a _clang_ , turning the eyes around the table to him.

 

“Honey?” Winona’s worried voice came from somewhere on his right. His breath began wheezing through his throat, hands pointlessly going near his neck to do something – anything, to smoothen the rapidly growing constriction in his throat. He heard clatter- like forks and knives hitting plates and chairs falling to the floor. His eyes watered in desperation, regular breathing changing into quick, short gulps of air. His body was swaying on the chair and he felt his limbs getting number and number. He shut his eyes against the feeling of his head swimming and heard someone open a comm. and bark into it with a cool voice.

 

“Doctor McCoy immediately to the dining hall, the Prince has what appears to be an anaphylactic-“

 

The rest was cut off as Jim’s world went completely dark and he collapsed in what definitely felt like someone’s arms, without having the slightest idea how he had ended up in them in the first place.

 

 

\-----

 

 

Jim opened one eye carefully. When there was no blinding light he eased the other on open too. Once he got his head organized he recognized his private room in the hospital wing. Huh. He was still alive.

 

“Not dead,” he croaked to himself. His throat felt uncomfortable from the allergic reaction but that was much better than the feeling of your windpipe becoming smaller than a straw.

 

“Yeah, not on my watch, kid,” Jim heard from the door. McCoy marched in equipped with a medical tricorder.

 

“How long was I out?” Jim asked whilst slowly propping himself up on his elbows regardless of the pounding in his head.

 

“About five hours, you got drugged,” McCoy sighed and ran the device near Jim’s face, not trusting just the biobed’s readings to do the job properly.

 

“Drugged? I thought it was an allergic reaction to the wine!” the boy exclaimed disbelievingly, voice still cracking.

 

“That too. Now don’t shout, you’ll lose your voice,” Bones muttered and studied the readings.

 

“Then go ahead and explain because I’m not getting this.”

 

“You helped yourself a pretty gracious dose of ketamine which usually takes like 10 or more minutes to work, but since you’re apparently allergic to it like pretty much everything under the big blue sky, it cause a nasty reaction. You, uh, vomited a few times in your sleep, I had to change you into that,” McCoy explained and gestured at the typical patient’s attire on Jim.

 

“Wa-wait. _Ketamine?_ Isn’t that a date rape drug?”

 

“Indeed,” said Spock and strode in to the private room, still looking like he did before the dinner, annoyingly pristine with hands neatly behind his back. Both McCoy and Jim gave a little jolt of surprise.

 

“What are _you_ doing here?” Jim demanded and narrowed his eyes at the Vulcan.

 

“I simply wished to confirm the status of my betrothed, as Doctor McCoy evidently could not bother himself to inform me of this development, regardless of my request,” he delivered and raised an eyebrow.

 

“Why, you green-blooded-“, McCoy began, but Spock cut him off.

 

“I also came to update both of you on the investigation’s improvement.”

 

“What investigation?”

 

“Investigation of the previous events, of course. They commenced immediately after you had been escorted to the hospital wing for further treatment.”

 

“But I’m fine now-“

 

“Jim, goddamnit, someone put a _rape drug_ in your _food_. It’s a _crime_! And not just any crime, but one against the crown, of course it’s gonna be investigated!”

 

Jim lowered his head and went silent, thinking. _Not again_ , went around in his head, _not fucking again_. He’d rather just go on with his life and think nothing of this little accident, but obviously that wasn’t an option. After all, it’s already been several years since the last scandal he had caused, wasn’t it about time for a new one?

 

It wasn’t that Jim didn’t worry at all or care about his life, as this one had come quite close. He simply hated this all, this investigating, gossiping… Everyone in Iowa was so damn interested in what happened in the court that you couldn’t simply keep the reporters completely away from it, especially when Jim was in town. Apparently he made for the juiciest rumors with his reckless bad-boy attitude. He hated it. He knew it only made his mother hate him more, which made him act up even more and then Jim’s miserable life has come a full circle. This wasn’t even his fault, Jim didn’t do _anything_ wrong, but still these disasters kept falling on him and Winona blamed him for shaming the kingdom all the same. No wonder she was so keen on getting him the hell out of there. Jim had even begun to pay extra attention on his behavior since the day he realized his mother’s plan, and now all that had just fallen apart. Fuck. His mere _existence_ caused trouble.

 

_Maybe it would’ve been better if that allergic reaction had done it,_ he thought _. It would’ve been the one scandal to end them all._

Jim could almost taste the tension in the air, how badly Bones wanted to open his big bloody mouth and start yapping about the subject Jim had deemed into one of those that were not open for discussion anymore, _ever_. Especially when Spock was right there, quietly observing. Sometimes Bones could be so damn insensitive.

 

“Look, kid, I don’t like this any more than you do and I _know_ you, I know what you’re thinking-“

 

“Shut up, Bones. No. We’re _not_ going to talk about it, do you understand?” Jim ordered, eyes slipping closer to resembling ice when he stared Bones into submission. The doctor raised his hand in the universal _I-surrender_ gesture. Spock still said nothing and most likely wouldn’t try to pry later, being Vulcan and all, and Jim really wanted this to end before it even began.

 

“…Okay, kid, okay. I’ll back off,” Bones said soothingly and changed the subject. “So what did you have to tell us, o’ Prince Spock?”

 

The Vulcan made no comment on avoiding the secret subject, which Jim was grateful for. Now that he thought about it, Spock seemed to give off mixed signals. On the first day he’d been polite, patient and accepting, then he’d become an aggressively dedicated teacher intending to crush Jim to ash, then occasionally doing these nice little things when Jim least expected it.

 

“Prince James’ plate, cutlery and glass were each covered by a light coating of the drug powder. Most likely to insure a sufficient inhalation for it to take effect. By now 43.6% of the palace personnel have been thoroughly interrogated for any suspects.”

 

“What about you then?” McCoy challenged, crossing his arms.

 

“To what are you referring?”

 

“Will you be interrogated? And the other hobgoblins?”

 

“Bones, what the hell, they’re our guests-“, Jim protested.

 

“A most agreeable idea, Doctor, thank you. I shall enforce this suggestion immediately,” Spock said and made to leave. He nodded at McCoy, then turned his head toward Jim. The human was still bit groggy so he must’ve been imagining the slight softening in the Vulcan’s eyes. “It is gratifying to see you are well, James.”

 

With that Prince Spock left Jim’s private room and the whole hospital wing.

 

“…Did he really just say he was glad that I’m okay?” Jim asked, gaping at the spot where Spock had stood just ten seconds ago.

 

“Like I said Jim, you’re like a married couple already. Now then, that’s out of the way. But what can you tell me about that hand of yours, darlin’?” Bones finished with a sickly-sweet tone that did not promise anything good.

 

_Uh-oh_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's that- an actual plot? Seriously?!
> 
> Yupyup, I'm actually trying here ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	4. On Culprits And Chess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long!  
> I've been having difficulties with this, as I'd love to do slow burn (who doesn't love slow burn) but I'm clearly too inexperienced for it as I have like a very serious need to just write fluff with these dorks, so it ends up like somewhere in between but more on the fluff. I don't know. I hope it's at least tolerable. :'D

Queen Winona herself was leading the investigations. She was also quite the lady in all her stubbornness and fierceness, so it wasn’t a wonder really, when the whole Palace had spun into action to find clues about the culprit just to please their queen. Some delicate but profound threatening about the fate of those who withheld information pretty much had done the job. After all, this _was_ about her baby boy’s life and she’d see to him marrying Prince Spock no matter what measures she’d have to take. She’d finally managed to convince Lady Amanda to try this out and she wouldn’t let this opportunity to get Jim to safety go so easily.

 

Ever since Jim was born, multiple adversaries had tried to gain access to him. Out of them all, Klingons were still, after nineteen years, the most ferocious. At first Winona and the officials of Starfleet and Order of the United Earth had thought the Klingons to be craving for revenge on them, as King George Kirk hadn’t been the only one to die in the attack, but their persistence had led to doubts that it was merely that; the Klingons had been behind way too many plots to get Jim. The prince of course didn’t know about all of them, but unfortunately was aware of the most drastic ones as he had been a relevant part in those schemes. Also Sam had never been targeted, which too had raised suspicions. Winona had waited so long for a chance to get her boy somewhere where she knew he’d be safe, and now Jim had been aimed at again.

 

It took only a few days to find out who had once again been behind this.

 

“You’re certain, Hendorff?” Winona confirmed, a hand clutching the helm of her gown and teeth worrying her lower lip. With the whole Palace and their Vulcan guests working together, the offender had been caught before he had managed to ask for an emergency escape from his employers.

 

“We have him in custody, so your Majesty can question him yourself if you rather heard the confession from his own lips,” the sturdy guard offered, raising from his bow.

 

“It’s alright. I assume you heard this as well?” Winona asked, switching her gaze from her main guard to Ambassador Sarek and Prince Spock. The Vulcan prince had requested to be a close part of the search, which had pleased both Sarek and Winona. It was him also who stepped forward and bowed his head.

 

“Indeed, your Majesty. After your security personnel’s… treatment, he was very forthcoming with information. He was indeed employed by Klingons to abduct Prince James,” Spock informed her. As Winona wasn’t at all adept in reading Vulcan body language, she missed the few tell-tale signs which told Sarek how angered his son truly was; his rigid back, white knuckles, slightly darker green color on the tips of his ears. He could tell how his son had longed to inflict some “treatment” of his own upon the offender.

 

The queen breathed out a heavy sigh. She leaned back and rubbed her temples; a headache was well on its way. “What’s his name?” she asked Hendorff.

 

“Gary Mitchell from kitchen staff, your Majesty.”

 

“Gary… Wasn’t he friends with Jim when they were younger?” Winona recalled with minor shock, suddenly even more appalled, if that was possible, by the situation. Jim’s own friend had tried to hand him over to Klingons. How on earth would she explain this to Jim without having him run off once more?

 

“I think so, your Majesty,” Hendorff nodded with a wince out of sympathy for the young prince. Sure, they hadn’t been that close anymore, but backstabbing was never pleasant. And in this case, it was a crime worth a grave punishment.

 

“Great. Just marvelous,” she mumbled and slid a hand down her face, not having the energy to act proper in front of their guests, even when they weren’t strangers. “Alright. He’ll go through a trial, I’ll tell Jim, you’ll have Uhura prepare a statement for the press that’s been lurking outside the gates for two days. We’ll deal with this quickly and efficiently.”

 

“As you wish, your Majesty,” Hendorff bowed deeply to his queen and left the throne room in a hurried walk. Winona heaved out a sigh yet again. _When will they stop tormenting us and my Jim?_

 

Ambassador Sarek stepped forward on the platform and placed a hand briefly on the queen’s clothed forearm, very unVulcan-ly offering sympathy for a friend.

 

“It is truly as you have said, Lady Winona,” he said as he retracted his hand. “Lady Amanda sends her support.”

 

“Yes, Lord Sarek. Give her my thanks and tell her I miss her dearly,” she said, looking up the Vulcan with a small, brave smile. Winona really missed her friend; now if ever she needed a shoulder to lean on. The two women had known each other for 19 long years and early on become best friends. They met when Lady Amanda had been visiting relatives on Earth and was going to return to Vulcan, but she had seen Lady Winona going into labor prematurely due excessive stress in the middle of the Starfleet Headquarters’ lobby and couldn’t leave the poor woman alone while her husband was fighting Klingons in outer space. Amanda herself had been without any support during her delivery, as Sarek had insisted on tradition and Vulcan medical personnel didn’t really practice bedside manner, and didn’t wish Winona to go through the same. She stayed with her to see Jim born, witnessed Winona behind a hospital room window as the comm. link with George was cut, offered her shoulder when Winona cried herself numb. Their friendship had had one of the oddest beginnings possible, but Winona was grateful beyond words for Amanda to have entered her life and been so gracious.

 

“Prince Spock, if I could have a word with you,” Winona asked the young Vulcan. He merely nodded and followed his father with his eyes as Sarek walked out of the room as well, leaving the two of them alone. He was in need of meditation, but wouldn’t deny the queen her request.

 

“I’m sorry to involve you in this, if I had any other option, I’d –“

 

Spock cut her short with a raise of his hand. “Apologies are unnecessary, your Majesty. It is my Father’s wish for me to marry Prince James, whom I hold in high esteem, therefore it is my wish as well.”

 

“You didn’t know all the risks before. The Klingons have gotten whiff of the engagement, they’re going to try even harder to get to him,” Winona said with a saddened tone, rubbing her tense form with cold fingers. She didn’t know what she’d do if Spock decided to back out of this, but she couldn’t give him any false promises; Winona owed him that for his kindness. Amanda nor Sarek would ever force Spock to marry Jim, and it was Winona who had suggested the arrangement. Amanda wouldn’t accept it at first but after the prince himself had voiced his own request to do honor to his clan by filling the owed debt to the Kirk family, she had acquiesced. If Spock wanted to return to Vulcan since he’d now seen the dangers facing Jim by himself, Winona would let him go, though very reluctantly. But she’d do anything in her power to try and change his mind.

 

Apparently it wasn’t required.

 

“And I shall do my utmost to protect him, your Majesty, from Klingons and any other who intend to do him harm. To have this right is my wish,” Spock declared with finality. The queen’s face was warmed by a grateful smile for the young prince; she had done right with her suggestion back then.

 

“Very well, Prince Spock. You have my gratitude, even when you say it’s not needed. My children mean everything to me, and to know Jim will be safe with you on Vulcan… I have no words. Thank you.”

 

“You are welcome then, your Majesty, as I believe you humans would say.” Winona nodded approvingly. She straightened herself out of her throne seat with grace and smoothed her gown down. She stepped down from the platform, right next to Spock and took a deep breath.

 

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go attend to my son,” she said jokingly and nodded at Spock, who bowed briefly back. _Such a precious son-in-law-to-be,_ she wondered genially and left.

 

&&&&&&&

 

“Sire, I zink you are cheating,” Chekov suspected as he stared hard at his cards, a tight frown on that pretty baby face, crossing and uncrossing his legs with uneasiness.

 

“Hey, Pasha, how else am I supposed to even try beating you at this game?” Jim laughed, busted. Chekov was such a whizkid that he’d always given Jim a run for his money when it came to maths and card games. But the prince wasn’t one to turn down a challenge, so here he was, using pretty unorthodox methods to beat his page. Now that Chekov had caught him, Jim conceded, throwing his cards on the table.

 

“Okay, you got me. Something else you wanna play?”

 

A chime rang, signalizing someone to be outside Jim’s chambers, requesting entry. Chekov immediately rose from his seat beside the desk with an apologetic smile and went to the door to check who it was. Jim was pretty sure there’d only be a few possibilities.

 

“God, if it’s Bones, tell him I’ve eaten already and if it’s Spock, tell him I’m doing homework and if it’s my mom, tell her I’m –“

 

“Ready to hear what she has to say, I’m sure,” remarked – _speak of the devil_ – Winona, having been given an all-clear from Chekov, from the now open doorway. Jim groaned, much like in the fashion of their reunion few weeks ago. These private meetings never seemed to end in Jim’s favor, no matter the topic.

 

“Is her Majesty, Sire,” the young page said kind of uselessly, “I vill take my leave.”

 

“No, Chekov, you should hear this too,” Winona stopped him and urged him back inside Jim’s study and came too, closing the door softly behind her. The younger boy nodded obediently and kept standing as she sat down beside the desk. There was another seat unoccupied, but Chekov had learned his training very early on and knew how to respect his queen. He knew how to respect his prince as well, but Jim had quickly put an end to all that stuff, saying “makes me feel like a snotty spoiled kid, Chekov, just call me Jim or whatever.” So instead of ‘ _your Highness’_ , Jim’s just ‘ _Sir_ ’ or ‘ _Sire_ ’ to him on a regular basis. The prince would of course prefer Jim, but the servants had limits, never mind the personal relationships between them and the royals. Hendorff, along with McCoy and a few others of the senior staff, was allowed to call Winona ‘ _ma’am_ ’, but refused to in his utmost respect for the woman.

 

“So, you caught the guy who had an itch for me, right?” Jim asked nonchalantly, checking his short fingernails.

 

“If you mean the criminal who attempted to drug you, then yes. We have him in custody,” Winona told him, intending to stay collected, though she wished to roll her eyes at her son. She was about to continue but Jim beat her to it.

 

And he almost broke her heart at the same time.

 

“Let me guess, it was the Klingons?” he said, pretty nonplussed, flicking his gaze momentarily on his mother and then away. Winona gasped out of anguish for his son’s quick wits and Chekov’s head whipped to gape at him in silent horror – not at Jim’s straightforwardness, no, but for the danger he knew the Klingons presented to his prince. As the two had a close relationship, in and outside of work, Chekov had been made aware of the events in Jim’s past, however with vague details, and he knew enough to be horrified at the concept of Klingons being behind this. Next to him, the Queen was trying to gain her composure back, looking and feeling so saddened, and filled worry and sympathy for her dear son, aware as she was of all the traumas of his life, mostly caused by those ruthless Klingons.

 

“Jim –,“ she began, with a slightly trembling voice, wanting somehow to make it better for him but not knowing how.

 

“Save it, mom. To be honest I’m not surprised at all,” he said and shrugged, feigning his devil-may-care attitude. Inside he was boiling. “It’s been a while, you know, figured they’d do something any day now.”

 

Jim met neither of his companions’ eyes. He had his head turned away, gazing out of the window at a flock of birds flying across the garden, momentarily feeling a pang of jealousy at their freedom. _Why always,_ always _me?_

 

“You gonna tell me who did it?” he asked, still facing away.

 

“Jim, he… it was Gary Mitchell,” Winona said with her eyes prickling. She saw her son’s jaw tighten and hands turn into tight fists. The newly awoken mother’s instinct yelled at her to grab a hold of his hand, to embrace his son and ease the pain. She lifted her right one to at least brush fingers against an agonized knuckle, but withdrew it, knowing her son wouldn’t welcome it. Not from her, if from anyone.

 

Chekov stood beside them, rigid and silent, his face reddening with anger as he recognized the name. Early on his hiring, the kitchen boy and the prince had been close friends. However, when Chekov was assigned as Jim’s page, the two became inseparable – well, more like Chekov immediately attaching himself to Jim’s hip, because he just happened to have the worst case of hero-worship when it came to the prince. Jim didn’t seem to mind, as Chekov was the wunderkind and kept up with him easily. And Gary – well, as a kitchen boy he couldn’t say either yay or nay back then. But to betray the prince! Chekov had never been as angry. Only the orders from the queen herself kept him in place, restricting him from stomping to the small jail beneath the palace and making Gary Mitchell understand just what followed from a betrayal that grave.

 

The silence in the room went on.

 

Jim drew in a shaky breath, cursing himself. Why did he have to care? Why did it have to mean something to him – that a person once very dear to him could do this to him? A voice in the back of his head told him he deserved it. _After all that you’ve done, all the grief you’ve caused, this is the price you pay. Alone forever, betrayed even by friends._

 

Jim longed to break something. He longed to be back on his roadtrip, on the way to the next bar to stir up a fight. To punch someone’s nose in. To be bruised, battered, like he was on the inside. Broken.

 

Then a thought, secretly a very painful one, occurred to him. Did Spock know? If so, how did he react? Was he _leaving?_ Breathing became even harder. Prince Spock, in all of his malicious, smug, no-feelings-here glory, had become quite a pleasant addition to his days throughout the few weeks. Spock was frustrating, but incredibly – to coin a phrase – fascinating. He presented a challenge to Jim, and was not afraid of stepping on his toes. As much as Jim whined about his fiancé to Pavel and Bones, he felt they were entering a sort of reluctant friendship.

 

“Is…um, did the–,” Jim swallowed, then laughed unhappily and a forced grin spread on his lips, “Did we manage to scare Prince Spock away, then?”

 

Winona feared his son’s phalanges might fracture if he wouldn’t relax his hands soon.

 

“It was a good try, but no,” she answered, hoping to bring some light into the darkness. “You two have your stubbornness in common.”

 

“Oh. Wait, what? He– he isn’t–?” stammered Jim, who had feared the worst. He had snapped to attention immediately. Winona smiled warmly and nodded, and Chekov hid his wide grin behind a palm. Jim flushed fire truck red.

 

“I– I mean, great for _you_ and the alliance and… oh, screw you both!” he hmphed and crossed his arms. This scene promptly lessened the tension in the room, the queen and page dissolving in laughter. Only when Jim began glaring them both furiously did they stop, Chekov making small hiccup-like noises.

 

“Alright. Mitchell’s trial will be next week,” Winona said as she rose from her seat, intending to leave. However, when he smiled fondly at her son and ruffled little Chekov’s hair, feeling particularly motherly, she noticed the abandoned deck of cards lying on the desk. Her interest was sparked and she wished to spend time with her son, unlike she had done in the past after each tragic happenstance. She was willing to change for her son, to be the mother he deserved. It’d be a slow process, taking small steps one at a time. An easy, simple way of spending time together was as good of a start as any. “Now, what were you two playing and with what antes?”

 

&&&&&&&&

 

It was well into the night when Jim sat on his broad windowsill, window fully open, and a leg dangling leisurely on the outside. He stared into nothingness, feeling the faint shiver as the night air seeped to his skin through thin pajama pants and an old t-shirt. He didn’t really want to think on the revelations of the day, but he couldn’t sleep. The knowledge of Mitchell’s betrayal kept him awake.

 

He hadn’t gotten the chance to storm down to the small prison, to demand Gary to explain. To apologize, for whatever grievance he had caused the man. To tell him it’s alright. Gary wasn’t the only one who wanted to be rid of Jim. And it’s not like Jim himself wanted to remain here, at the Palace, anyway. He would’ve gladly gone along with a kidnapping, if it wouldn’t be guaranteed that he’d be given to the Klingons. Only then, if he was certain of a chance to escape, not to end up in another prison. He longed for freedom.

 

A stab of pain made itself known as he thought of the betrayal, and the same familiar voice in his head told him again how he deserved it, really. Had it coming. It told him also how his mother suddenly took pity on him and chose to remain for a few games of poker (Jim had been utterly defeated between his genius of a mother and his wunderkind of a page) just for that, not because she wanted to spend time with her son.

 

 _“You think Spock stayed because he wanted to? Of course not, are you an idiot? He’s dad has a debt to be paid to your dad, so it’s his duty, he’s got no choice. He’d_ never _willingly choose to remain with_ you, _you miserable fuckup of a prince. Never.”_

 

The air suddenly got just that much colder and Jim couldn’t suppress the violent shiver that rocked through his body, and he felt like he was choking again.

 

“You should not be exposed to this weather while wearing such garments.”

 

Jim jumped a little, trying to balance himself on the windowsill and not to fall over. The monotone voice had come from among the wildly outgrown bushes, from the path that led to the area where they’d had tea when the Vulcans had first arrived. Prince Spock was now approaching the open window in an unhurried pace, clad in dark robes to shield him from the cold – to him, most likely freezing – air.

 

“Jesus, don’t scare me like that!” Jim managed.

 

“I apologize, it was not my intent.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jim shrugged, recovering from the fact that Spock was actually standing right outside his personal chambers, having deliberately walked into this more secluded part of the garden, which couldn’t really mean anything else than that he had something he wished to share with Jim. The thought was warming against the night air. “What’s up?”

 

“Vulcans do not ‘worry’. Moreover, as you are aware of what, precisely, is ‘up’, I do not understand why you would wish to ascertain that fact from me, as it is you who has a permanent residence here.”

 

Jim couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, which had Spock faintly cocking his head to the left in question.

 

“I meant, why are you here? Was there something you wanted to say to me?”

 

“I see.”

 

“Well?”

 

“I wished to make certain of your well-being and offer you company, as you are yet awake. I have understood this to be one of the indubitably many tasks of a spouse,” Spock deadpanned. Jim pursed his lips for a second. So, Spock had merely come down there out of an obligation, rather than his own will. _Way to get your hopes up, idiot_.

 

“And here I thought you wanted to lecture me on my homework since I’m not sleeping,” Jim said with a snort. “And you don’t have to do any of that stuff, I’m fine without you performing your supposed husbandly chores.”

 

Deep within him was a part that wanted to cling on to the Vulcan, beg him not to leave Jim alone. To distract him from all this misery, to assure him that he might have a couple years of something good, before he’d venture out to the stars. That part however had been, was, and would be forever easily squashed. Jim knew better than to _really_ expect the universe to give him a break.

 

“Very well, good night,” Spock said with an impassive face and swiftly turned to leave. This surprised Jim so, that his balance failed him and with a yelp he fell face first off the windowsill, down to Spock’s steady arm, that had shot in his way in incredible speed to catch him.

 

It took him a second to realize he’s not laying on the ground with a mouth full of soft grass, but rather leaning heavily on a sturdy, muscular forearm. Jim felt his heart take off and face rapidly get warmer, and he inwardly groaned at how he must seem like a lovesick teenager, which he definitely was _not_. Spock just had had this weird ability to get under Jim’s skin without doing anything, really, but when he came up close and personal, Jim instinct was to blush furiously and stammer. It didn’t mean he was in love with him or anything, you know, because it’s totally different than a crush. Jim would reluctantly admit he had a crush on Spock. Crushes were safe. Mostly lust, and very easy to forget. Had happened tons of times before.

 

Suddenly he remembered Spock to be a touch telepath, and couldn’t get some distance between them fast enough.

 

“Are you alright?” Spock asked, looking like nothing had happened, standing in his customary position. Jim settled for a curt nod, not trusting his voice before a couple a bit larger intakes of air.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m… I’m fine. Thanks. For that.”

 

Spock didn’t answer, but his eyes reflected some… amusement? Nevertheless, after a quiet pause, Jim felt some amusement of his own at the situation and let it out as a little out-of-breath laugh. Then he laughed a little more, and then a bit more, until his embarrassment was long gone and only remained an unusual, good feeling.

 

“You don’t have to leave. I… Uh, do you by any chance play chess?” Jim inquired, shuffling his bare feet at the grass, waiting for Spock to decline the offer.

 

“I am ranked Grandmaster in both regular and tri-dimensional chess on Vulcan,” he said instead.

 

“Wanna play?”

 

“I am amenable to that suggestion,” Spock nodded and to Jim it felt like Christmas. He lifted his head to look in the Vulcan’s brown, kind eyes and felt a genuine grin on his face.

 

“Awesome! Oh, and don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you,” Jim winked. Spock raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘I’d like to see you try’ and Jim couldn’t help but feel extremely excited. _Oh, the game is_ on.

 

But because Jim was a dork who didn’t expect any nightly guests and certainly not falling out of any windows, he had the patio door locked and the only entrance to his chambers without walking like, half a mile around the garden, was the large, still open (thank _god_ ) window. And if Jim was granted with the joy to watch Prince Spock climb in a window in all his robes, almost slip, get laughed at (“good-naturedly, Spock, I swear!”), and then see what an embarrassed Vulcan’s ears looked like, he wasn’t allowed to tell anyone. (“They’re emerald green on the tips, so _adorable_! Can I touch them?”)


End file.
